


The Most Human

by Ricechex



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex/pseuds/Ricechex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian’s early this morning. It’s not an unheard of occurrence; he does reside at the station, after all.</p>
<p>What is strange about the morning is that when he gets to the desk he shares with John, there’s a package on it. What looks like a box, wrapped in bright blue and silver paper, with matching ribbons and a satin bow and a tag hanging off of it that says, <i>For Dorian</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Human

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy birthday, love.

Dorian’s early this morning. It’s not an unheard of occurrence; he does _reside_ at the station, after all.

What is strange about the morning is that when he gets to the desk he shares with John, there’s a package on it. What looks like a box, wrapped in bright blue and silver paper, with matching ribbons and a satin bow and a tag hanging off of it that says, _For Dorian_. He holds the box in his hand, feeling the weight of it experimentally. Decent heft, no noises…

“Sorry I’m late, had to wait for more coffee.” John settles the paper cup on his desk and nearly falls into his seat, yawning and looking up at Dorian. “Hey, you alright?”

Dorian blinks. “Yeah man, I’m…” He holds up the gift - because it’s clearly a gift, what with the wrapping and decoration and the tag - and asks, “You know anything about this?”

John frowns. “What is it?”

“It looks like a gift.”

John rolls his eyes. “Well then give it here so I can open it.”

Dorian pulls the box away from John’s outstretched hand. “It’s for _me_ , John.”

“What? How is it for _you_?” He stands up and comes to stand beside Dorian, flipping the tag over to see the inscription. “Well, shit,” he mutters, sighing. “That’s all we need, people leaving mysterious packages at our desk.”

Dorian scoffs. “It’s just a _present_ , John.”

“Yeah? What for?”

Dorian bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “I don’t know, actually.”

“Like I said. Mysterious.”

“You don’t trust anything, do you?”

“Did the tag say who it’s from?” John sits back down, grabbing his data pad and flicking through case files.

“No,” Dorian says, shaking his head. “It just says it’s for me.”

“So are ya gonna open it already?” John leans back in his chair as Dorian sits down across from him. He lets out a breath, slides his finger into one of the folds of the paper, and pulls. In seconds he’s uncovered a lovely wooden box complete with an old fashioned metal lock and key. There’s a simple border carved along the top of it, but nothing else to indicate what it contains.

“What do you suppose this is?” he asks.

John shrugs. “Looks like a box.”

“It’s amazing that you haven’t had a promotion recently, with detective skills like that,” Dorian says, fingers running over the aged wood with reverence.

“Fuck you,” John murmurs, smirking. “Open the damn box already, maybe then I can get some work done.”

Dorian pulls up the ornate looking key by the chain it’s attached to, tethering it to the box. He slides it into the lock and turns it.

The lock pops open without hesitation, and he pushes the lid open.

“Oh.” Dorian stares into the box, mouth slightly open.

“What? What is it?”

He reaches in and pulls out an old, worn, leather bound book. “It’s… It’s _Gray_ _’s Anatomy_.” He opens it up, beaming. “There’s a note written inside!” His temple flashes as he reads it, handwriting automatically being checked against his internal database. He didn’t need it, though; the note was signed, and even without the handwriting samples he had access to, he knew it immediately.

 

_Dorian - Because you_ _’re the most human person I’ve ever known. John_

 

Dorian stares at the script on the inside cover, then looks up. John’s toying with his coffee cup, cheeks flushed pink as he keeps his gaze averted, and just as Dorian’s about to say something, he leans forward and says, “One year ago - today - I came back to work. It started off bad. Went worse. And then I walked into Rudy’s lab, and…” He swallows. “And I met you.” He smiles. “Happy birthday. You know, if you wanted to celebrate that kinda thing. Or… if you consider this to sort of… be _like_ a birthday…” He looks down at his desk. “I dunno, I thought it was funny, but if I was wrong-”

“You’re not,” Dorian says, and John looks up at him, hopeful. Dorian grins. “It’s perfect, John. I love it.”

“Yeah?” John’s expression is still wary, and Dorian smiles as he flips through a few pages in the book. “My uh, my old man was gonna be a doctor, originally.” He nods at the book, a hand coming up and finger flicking to indicate pages turning. “Find the section about the brain.”

Dorian checks the table of contents, then turns to the appropriate pages and immediately begins laughing. Scribbled in the margins are notes on regions and parts of the brain, along with notes about how _this was a very bad idea_ and _I should_ _’ve become a cop instead_. He looks back up at John, smile fading as realisation hits. “Wait, you… this was your _father_ _’s_?”

John nods. “He says he got one thing out of the semester he spent at med school.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” John’s fingers are twisting around one another; he’s nervous, unsure, and yet determined to keep going. “He met my mom while he was in the library one night. She saw his text books and recommended he get a copy of that.” John gestures at the book again. “Her sister was a nurse, said it had been helpful. The next day he picked that up. Said he spent more time talking to her about everything _but_ medicine than he did studying.” John laughs, quiet and real. “He told me that damn book was how he met the love of his life. The box was a gift from my mom, years later. She uh, she thought it was funny, he kept the book all that time, so she had the box made to keep it safe for him.”

Dorian exhales and looks back at the book. It’s heavy, certainly; Dorian can tell it’s 3.8 lbs, but the emotional weight it carries is far greater than anything he could have imagined. And paired with the box…

“Are you uh, you sure it’s alright?”

Dorian raises his eyes to meet John’s once more. “I think it’s the most thoughtful and… _intimate_ gift I could ever have gotten.” He smiles and hugs the book to his chest. “It means a lot, John.”

The tips of John’s ears go _bright_ red, and he grumbles as he says, “You’re welcome, then.”

They’re silent for a moment, and then John asks, “You… I know you don’t eat, but… I thought maybe we could duck out a little early for lunch, go do… something _you_ wanna do.”

Dorian nods. “I’d like that.”

John smiles. “OK. Good, good.” He clears his throat and grabs his data pad again. Dorian runs a hand over the worn leather and fading gilt lettering, thinking about what it means to be holding the book that brought John’s parents together.

“Hey, John?”

John looks up, expression curious.

“Thank you. I’ve never had a birthday before.”

“Yeah, well…” John shrugs and gives Dorian one of his rarest, most honest smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Dorian looks down at the book and lets his fingers trail over the embossing again before he looks back up at John, who’s focused on his data pad. There’s a furrow between his eyebrows, the one he gets when he’s actually concentrating on something, and Dorian thinks that maybe, _just maybe_ , he knows how John’s father felt when _he_ held it and looked at John’s mother.


End file.
